Chapter 1

Claire Darcy gazed vacantly at the large painting on the gallery wall.

She saw it and yet it really didn't quite register. Her mind was spinning and weaving intricate combinations of "What Ifs" and "Why Me's" so fast that her retina and her medulla were like strangers in a dense London fog.

Claire mumbled "It wasn't my fault" under her breath.

It was, of course, just barely audible to human ears. In a strange distortion of cosmic certainty, the words pierced the consciousness of the totally bored Arthur standing less than a meter to her rear.

Arthur was instantly intrigued.

The fact that he had painted the jumbled expression of deep-seated melancholy perched forlornly on the wall in front of them was the sole reason for his presence.

There had been relatively few art lovers who had paused even for an instant to view his now regretted offering. This hauntingly beautiful young woman had stood here for several minutes already and seemed engrossed in his bold strokes.

Arthur studied the six o'clock view of the tall, slender and most elegantly attired female form standing in quiet serenity and totally unaware of his penetrating stare. She was dressed in simple black with little or no frills. The dress was perfectly fitted displaying the soft curves of her nubile female bottom. Her waist seemed to be inordinately tiny. Perhaps that was the angle or some trick of the mind. His eyes wandered lower to the perfect lines of seamed nylons that only heightened the sensuous picture of feminine attraction. Her stiletto heels added a sense of danger that only made him more anxious to somehow draw her attention to him.

Since he was not too well versed in the chess-like moves of social interaction, Arthur used the tried and true method of less imaginative males over the ages.

"Do you find this piece to be interesting, Madame?"

Claire was displeased to be taken from her internal private hell of recrimination and despair. She was having far too much fun wallowing in the shame and guilt adorned walls she had built around her like a cocoon of personal penance.

She looked at the handsome man with the hint of a mustache and slowly wandered back to reality.

"Were you addressing me, Sir?"

Arthur cleared his throat nervously.

This was certainly off to a bad start.

"I was merely inquiring as to your opinion on the painting. My name is Arthur King and I am the unfortunate contributor of this piece. It seems to attract scant interest except for you."

Claire looked at the painting on the wall with eyes clouded in self-pity. The painting did bring a smile to her face. The moonlit view of the waves crashing onto a barren beach reminded her she was alone with her recriminations.

"You seem to have captured the lighting perfectly, Mr. King. That is always the most difficult ingredient. Is that an English shore? My name is Claire. Claire Darcy from Manchester."

Arthur could not detect a trace of Manchester dialect in the well-modulated posh tones employed by the very attractive mature woman. Judging from her jewelry, Claire was definitely an upper-class female or a cross-over from the masses linked to a well-fixed elitist. He noticed she seemed a bit distracted and off-kilter in a charming sort of way.

"You have given me my first compliment on my moonlight masterpiece. As to the shore, it is on the Rhodes in a very out of the way locale."

Arthur chuckled somewhat self-consciously at his ridiculous aversion to criticism. It was time to find out more about this mysterious and sensuous female with the smile of an angel and the body of a temptress from hell.

"Would you care to join me at Andre's for a cocktail? It is just next door and I want to drag more compliments from your non-critical mind."

Claire looked around at the bustling crowd and decided she needed a little more solitude. She nodded her head in quick assent.

Arthur took her arm and guided her through the crowd to the exit. His forearm was tingling with the soft delicate rubbing of her bra-less breast on his wrist and the back of his hand. She was 100% real and the flick of her sensitive nipple across his knuckle revealed she was in a state of unfeigned feminine arousal. He prayed it was because of his proximity to her beautiful body.

Just before they entered the tiny bistro, Arthur swung Claire into his embrace and lifted her face up for a tender searching kiss that compressed their lips firmly but not with any sense of pressure or demand. He could feel her heart beating rapidly and it reassured him of her interest.

"There now! We can enter as friends and not strangers. Our intimacy is safe in front of others."

Claire laughed softly and squeezed Arthur's arm.

"To what length will you go to assure that, Mr. King? Do not presume you will be getting lucky tonight, my little artist."

They sat for nearly an hour talking about absolutely nothing. Neither one could remember a single word.

When they left Andre's, Claire had her arm around Arthur's waist and she had forgotten all of her troubles. They had vanished with the single kiss of introduction outside the door.

There was a slight mist.

Arthur pulled Claire into a darkened doorway of a deserted travel agency. She was giggling at the contact between their slightly inebriated bodies. He held her close and let his hands rest comfortably on her lush buttocks without attempting to fondle or to play with her luscious ass cheeks. Claire melted into Arthurs groin and allowed his extended member to rub with dangerous intent between her shaky legs. He looked down into her face and saw the tears in her eyes. She groaned out her frustration and he knew immediately that her need for sex was even more intense than his own.

She turned away from him and pulled up the designer dress to her tiny waist.

In the soft glow of the streetlamp Arthur could see the reflection of the twin moons of sweet desire. He pushed Claire forward just slightly but enough to spread open her glorious bum. Arthur rubbed his rampant cock up and down Claire's heated pussy lips and even bounced it playfully on her brown eye winking in the lamplight. The sound of Claire's gasps drove Arthur into a frenzy from which there was no turning back.